Dear Anthony Kiedis,

Singer in the Red Hot Chili Peppers.

This is a letter adressed to you, concerning the very unhealty and compulsive obsession I have for you since about 4 years. Don't mind me if I sound impersonnal, but I rather write this to let off the steam than to actually get in contact with you, as I am not totally psychopatic yet and still conserve a faint but present sense of the reality. (Yes that was ironic if you wondered. And if you still wonder, there's... "some" irony in what will follow.) I want to tell you a special story, a story concerning the day I passed from an innocent, sexless childhood to my luscious, heatly womanhood.

It all begun on a sweet summer afternoon, at the age of twelve, when I put on your record "Blood Sugar Sex Magik" with the intention to get very impregnated of it. (Not that "impregnated". Dirty.) Being a pre-adolescent french froggy, my understanding of the sung english language was still pretty basic, and so did I follow your very sensual and strong voice through the lyrics booklet. Everything went fairly well, my amazement and marvelling growing as the songs played forth and back until I reached the eponym tune of the disk. I don't exactly remember what was my reaction, on the very moment those eminously erotic and languid sentences stroked my audition, rendered by this sexy, arousing growl of yours. But I know I began to feel a savage heath in my panties, as my womanhood expressed its first blooming. In other terms, I had "wetted" for the first time. I can recall, up to this day, every sensations that surrounded this magik indeed, blushingly new physical phenomenon. I remember the little me sitting on an uncomfortable whoolen chair before her painted drawing desk, the golden light of those summer days making the blue of the sky explosefully glowing and deep through the window, the timidly dancing sunrays that fell from the glass on the rich colour of the wooden floor, and the dryness of my eyes globes who kept growing increasingly wide. I remember how those white, handwrittenish words on the black background felt in my mind and in my body.

It was one of those colourful, crucial moment you remember for a lifetime. After all, all my conscious sexuality awakened, sprung open at this moment. How could I forget it?

You had to have a lot of talent to produce such an effect. Clich�, ordinary lyrics would not have induced this reaction in me.. My point is that you're a very fine songwriter, and a sincere one. You can feel the raw emotion through the very personnal, unique imagery of your work. And I'm not only talking about Blood Sugar Sex Magik, here: all your songs are individual, researched little gems of unusual expression and message. And don't you try to desillusion me otherwise, for I'll refuse to accept reality. (I said my sense of it was faint anyway.)

And so, to get to the shallow part, being so much intrigued, I began to surf the web, at the research of any Red Hot Chili Peppers stuff, particularly photos. And oh, did this enquiring unveiled pleasant surprises...

I know you must have been told numerous times how... incredibly handsome you are. In cruder terms. Those affirmations involving pretty subjective invitations too, on occasions. So I won't repeat the groupie-scene all over to you, but be assured I do wish and imagine it all the way. It is really hard to resist to the temptation of complimenting the lean and muscular form of your body and all of the savage desires it creates in my young female head. Harder even not to swoon litteraly over your soft, profound eyes, your large, sharp and inviting mouth and the pronounced, so-very-male shape of your cheekbones, chin, forebow and nose. I think the most difficult, thought, is *not* to relate the multiple sexual fantasies it is possible and desirable to insert you in. But I'm able to.

Mmmh, wait...

Oh, nevermind.

On a last, flatterous note, I'd like to congratulate you for writing such amazing poetry and playing with such an amazing band. It's true, you're certainly not the only good element in it: we cannot ignore to mention the very fine and jazzy bass playing of Flea, the crazy guitar licks effectuated by Frusciante and the vigorous drum beats of Chad Smith (with whom i share my family name).

But I must say, amongt all of those magnificient musicians, you are my favorite for you are the human voice of them all. And you impress me so much I go as far as unrealistically imagining we could one day converse on deep subjects in total communication and on the same thought vibe. But I've got an ounce of rationnality left, so I don't have much convictions it'll happen.

On those raucous declarations, I return you back to the exterior and sane world.

With admiration,

-L